Fools For Love
by crazyevildru
Summary: Spike, Dru, Darla, Angel all reflect.
1. i am what i am

TITLE:  i am what i am  1/1

SUMMARY: SPIKE reflects.

RATING: R (character death)

CATEGORY: Angst

SPOILERS: Fool For Love, Darla and general buffy season 2

DISCLAIMER:  Joss Whedon owns all. Dido owns "Here With Me".

DEDICATION: To my bitches! The founders of the "We Envy Shannon" club! (yes I was nosy!)

FEEDBACK:  PLEASE! It means SOOOO much! PLEASE PLEASE!

THANKS TO: James, Juliet, David and Julie. AND TO: Ryan, Ash, Evil Willow, Michelle, Alee, and my two bitches.

FOOLS FOR LOVE

-i am what i am-

                I am a sap. I am a soddin' sap. I'm no better than Angel, but at least I have the guts to admit that I'm a ponce. He doesn't. He's too much of a manly's man. Course perhaps he really is the *real* vampire, and I'm just the same poncy bugger I was when I was chasin' around the girls writin' poetry. But whatever the reason, I know I'm a sap. So I can sit here drinkin' more beer, watchin' the humans dance about without a care in the world. I miss the days of violence and shaggin'. I miss the blood, the kill, the sound of necks snappin'. You get used to it and then it's gone, but at least I don't have me a soul. I have a heart.

                She may've killed me and stopped my heart from beating, but she didn't make it stop. She just made it loyal. To her. Everything was for her. And that's the way it was supposed to be. She was my sire. She was my unlife. The air I didn't breathe. She was my entire existence. She celebrated with me. She showed me things. She made me whole for over a century. But she never loved me.

                She loved him. Because he was *her* everything. He was her unlife. The air she didn't breathe. He was her entire existence. But he never loved her. He loved Darla and Darla loved him. And perhaps that's the real reason I hate him so much. He had his sire's love, and I never had a chance with mine. He twisted her, and he hurt her, and he made her what she was. And in her lucid moments, she was able to look beyond him and look at me. But those were few and far between, so it was up to him and Darla to be my mentors. And he took it upon himself to show me the things she couldn't understand, while she told me I didn't need to know.

                He was her failure, and so when the time came for him to declare his favored childe, he chose me. And Dru was forgotten. He single-handedly stripped me of my *true* sire, and he loved every minute of it, because my heart was so loyal to her. I didn't know how to hide my feelings. I couldn't. She was my everything. She was the bloody definition of a god, and he knew it.

                I can still see his face, when he went groveling at the Master's feet for forgiveness for being so blunt. It was the only time I ever saw him show weakness, or fear. He had learned. So we went for my eleventh birthday, and the Master had heard of me already. He walked over to me and asked who it was that created such a monster. Angelus walked over, turned me towards him, looked at me with evil in his eyes, kissed me possessively, and said "I did." And so it was. And Drusilla wasn't lucid enough to protest, and she worshipped him too much to argue.

                Drusilla failed him. Penn failed him. The Master was clearly pleased with me, having taken on hoards of humans and demons alike, so he took credit. And she followed him blind. Which was why, when he came back to our side, that I had to undo his hold on her. Unfortunately most of my plans these days don't work out too well, and it backfired. I used to be able to handle myself. What happened? Did I lose it somewhere, like he did?

                He used to punish me for creating havoc. See, the one thing I loved was a room full of panic and fear. I loved mass chaos. I could handle myself. All that anger, and unrequited love, and cruelty shown to me in life was given a hundred fold on all those I encountered after death. And I loved it. I let the anger guide me, until one day I realized that it was no longer controlling me, but that I was controlling it. And *that's* when I killed my first slayer. *That* day was when I decided to take control. She was starting to see me. He'd been gone two years, and although he breezed in, Drusilla knew the truth. She knew he'd leave again. It was inevitable. He had to, and she accepted that for a hundred years.

                Perhaps had she not really been my sire, perhaps if we'd both not known the truth, we would have been partners. Mates. Equals. But we never were, because she chose me as a plaything, not for a mate, like Darla chose him. Reason number one hundred and forty-two why I hate him.

                So when it comes right down to it, I'm sitting here with a chip in my head, worthless. I found her and gave her the pain she always begged of me. And I did it with sorrow because I never want to make her bleed. I never want her to hurt. She's my sire and I'd set fire to myself if that would make her truly happy, but she'll never be happy with me. So I sit and I drink, and I wish things were different, because I really can't do anything about anything anymore.

                And watching humans isn't *that* boring. Granted I'd rather snap their necks or chase them around with blood dripping down my chin or a hundred other nasty little things to them, but I can't. So I watch them dance to this bleedin' sappy song, but that's okay, because as I've said, I'm a sap.

//I didn't hear you leave, I wonder how am I still here?  
And I don't want to move a thing; it might change my memory//

Who am I kidding, really? I miss the blood and chaos so much sometimes it hurts. So bad to the point that I bite myself just to feel the sensation of my fangs breaking skin. But it doesn't cut it. So I cut my lip just to feel the blood drip from my mouth and it still doesn't do it. Nothing can. Nothing will. And so why do I really wanna see another night anyway?

Because there are only two people in this world that have the right to take me out of it. My sire and the slayer. And neither will. So I'm punished. If only Slutty knew. And talking with her just makes it worse because as much as she wants to understand about vampires and slayers, and as much contact she's had with vampires (which is more than any slayer previous), she still can't understand.

  
//Oh I am what I am, I'll do what I want   
But I can't hide, I won't go, I won't sleep   
I can't breathe until you're resting here with me  
I won't leave, I can't hide, I cannot be   
Until you're resting here with me//

And the reason she can't understand is because she doesn't know what it's like to feel truly alone. Abandoned by everything. It's a void in the pit of your stomach. It's an all-consuming need to be, and knowing that you're not. She can't possibly understand that because she doesn't have an everything. She doesn't have one being that represents her life, her love, her hope, her death, her sex, her light, her dark, her breath, the water in her body, the wind in her hair, she doesn't have an everything. She has someones that take on those roles, but she cannot comprehend the meaning of the word 'sire'.  
  


//I don't want to call my friends, they might wake me from this dream  
And I can't leave this bed, risk forgetting all that's been//

The very concept is something lost on the council, the watchers, the slayers and all the humans and demons that don't have one. Sire is everything. Angelus understood. Darla did. Drusilla did. I did. And when your everything is ripped out of your world, you try to fill the void, but it never works because you can't find another. Sire is an irreplaceable everything. That she is. And even though most of the Order of Aurelias don't recognize her as my sire, *I* do. And he does. He understood that and did everything he could to rip out my everything.

//Oh I am what I am, I'll do what I want   
But I can't hide, I won't go, I won't sleep   
I can't breathe until you're resting here with me  
I won't leave, I can't hide, I cannot be   
Until you're resting here//  
  


                I miss everything. I yearn for it. I burn for it inside until I can't take it. I bleed for it. I bleed for her. My insides twist and grind for her. My body aches and calls for her, a glance, a touch, a look. And she's not here with me. And I won't go. I won't sleep. I can't breathe until she's here with me. I won't leave. I can't hide. I cannot be without her here with me. And unless I'm talking to a vampire, no one can understand, and even the new vampires don't understand because sires don't stick around. Is it any wonder the fledges are so easy to take out? Slutty wouldn't stand a chance against a gang of Angelus'. He was tough and brutal and as much as I hate him, I *really* hate him cause I love him just as much.

//Oh I am what I am, I'll do what I want   
But I can't hide, I won't go, I won't sleep   
I can't breathe until you're resting here with me  
I won't leave, I can't hide, I cannot be   
Until you're resting here with me//

                Because in the end, he was what I had for a sire. *He* took her place, and perhaps it was always his because she was too wrapped up in him to notice me for anything other than a playtoy. He was my sire, he was my Yoda. He became my everything, for a short time, but he was. And as much as he didn't want to admit it, he knew it. *That's* why he claimed me as his. She made me immortal, but he made me a vampire. He made me what I am.

So he tore not one, but two sire's from me and I hate him for it. My body yearns for her, but will settle for him. I often wonder if he feels that ache because he killed his. And as I'm driving down the freeway, I still wonder. And I open the door to his new offices and he stands up. I can smell her here, his sire. I can smell her. It's distinctively her and that's just not possible, but by the look on his face, I know it is.

                "If you're looking for a fight…" he starts, but can't even finish. He just sits.

                "How?" I ask.

"A spell of some kind or another."

                "And human."

                "Human with a soul. She wanted me to…"

                "Sire her?" I finish his sentences, still after all this time.

                "Yeah, but I can't. But she asked and I said no, and she left. She's in danger. She's hurting. She needs help."

                "But you can't give it to her." I know why she's empty inside. Because when she died, the Master became her everything, and he's not here anymore. She had the chance to get another, to fill the void and take away the pain because only your everything can *really* fix that. "I envy her." I remark and he just looks at me and nods in agreement.

CONTINUE ON


	2. Lemons

NOTE: THIS IS THE PREMIERE DRU POV FIC FROM ME! BE KIND AND SEND FEEDBACK! This fic is a companion piece to go with my Spike piece. There, hopefully, will be an Angel one next.

TITLE:  the Lemons  1/1

COMPANION PIECE FOR: i am what i am

SUMMARY: DRUSILLA reflects.

RATING: R (character death)

CATEGORY: Angst

SPOILERS: Fool For Love, Darla and general buffy season 2

DISCLAIMER:  Joss Whedon owns all. Alanis Morrisette owns "Can't Not".

DEDICATION: For Rabbit. Thanks SOOO much! And to Tali for the encouragement.

FEEDBACK:  PLEASE! It means SOOOO much! PLEASE PLEASE!

THANKS TO: James, Juliet, David and Julie. AND TO: Ryan, Ash, Evil Willow, Michelle, Alee, and my two bitches.

FOOLS FOR LOVE

**-the Lemons-**

                I used to eat lemons. They would tickle my tongue. Me mum would get them for me once a week when I was little. When I was older, she cursed me. She said it was the lemons that cursed me. I wonder sometimes if she was right. I miss the lemons so. Such a sour, wretched, wicked fruit. Mum said too many lemons would eat the sweetness right out of a person, and she said it was the devils work. She said Satan lived in those lemons, and when the pictures stared coming, she said it was through the lemons that they'd gotten me. But I've met Satan, and he didn't look like a lemon.

                We used to have such wonderful parties. Satan and I would dance, and drink, but I always felt left out. She had his heart, I didn't. Sometimes he wouldn't even play with me, he'd want *her*. Not that I didn't like grandmother, but she was no lemon. I miss those parties. I can't help but come to them now. Spike always promised me a party, but we never had one. So I come and play at someone else's party and I don't understand why they always scream when I was invited. But no matter because the screams sing to me above the music.

                Oh the screams! They fill me up and make me tummy grumble. I like the bear that gets all grumbly in his tumbly. I used to dance on Saturday and Spike would be Tigger. And he'd try to pounce on me, but the bear and Tigger just weren't friends like that. But Spike couldn't see that because he and my Angel were friends like that and sometimes I'd get to watch.

                I'd watch Satan sometimes. He was vicious and heavenly. He was purely divine. He was my Angel. He was my savior. He set me free. He was my world, but the work came tumblin' down, like Mum said would happen one day. Damn those lemons!

                I watch the stage where the music comes from and the woman's eyes are much like my Angel's. Dark. Mysterious. Angry. And he was angry, not like Spike. Spike liked to get angry and kill everyone, which was fun. He would clean the red off of me. He used to give me baths, but I always remembered me mum bathing me in a tub, not with her tongue. But no matter because I was always so clean. But my Angel was from the heavens. He didn't get angry like Spike. He got worse.

                And I loved it.

                Spike used to tell me that sometimes I was crazy, and that sometimes I was confused, and that it was hard to tell the difference. He told me that the years after my Angel left, I got worse, but that I was starting to get better again. But I don't want to be better again, because without the moon songs, it would hurt too much. It's so empty inside when it's just me. Sometimes the songs stop, and the whispers stop, and I can just be me. Like now. But I don't know who I am, because everything I was, is no more, and everything that I am, isn't either. Because everything I was and am isn't here anymore. He went away.

                Sometimes I can see him in my head or hear him in the wind. I can close my eyes and see him staring back at me. I can see him and hear him when he took me. I can see his eyes when he showed me how much he loved me. And oh how he did love me! Not as much as Spike. Spike didn't want to hurt me and it wasn't fair. After my Angel left, my body sang to him but he would not hurt me, not like my Angel.

                My precious Angel rescued me. He set me free. Some days I wouldn't be able to walk. Somedays I spent chained to the bed listening the birds just outside my reach. He used to bring me birds. My Angel always knew what I needed. He knew what I craved. I miss him so. My body cries for him, it weeps for him, it sings for his fingers, for his manhood, for his fangs. It calls for his blood, which he never gave, only once did he (when he set me free.) Oh my Angel!

                If I close my eyes, I can see beyond the walls and humans. I can see beyond time. I can see him walking towards me. I was shaking. I always shook. My body would tremble and the moon would make me cry. And he hated when I cried, and I always did and he would just hit harder and I would love it. I loved it because he wanted me to and he was everything to me, so I loved it. And after a while, I wanted it. I'd strip, and carry the whip or mace to him, and he'd hurt me. He'd punish me for being naughty. I miss my Angel!

                _*Drusilla.*_

I hear them. They're back.

_*Drusilla. Go. Shh.* She sings. __*Remember Drusilla.* She whispers. __*God doesn't want you.*_

My Angel told me that. My fingers slide down my body and I wish they were his.

_*He doesn't love you.*_

Yes he does.

_*Never.*_

Don't say that. I cry, I plead to the moon when she sings.

_*No he didn't. He hated you. He hurt you. He raped you.*_

NO! I growl and grab the first girl that walks by. She screams and makes me happy again.

_*You're bad.*_

They'll never be quiet. They'll never stop. They come and come and come and they'll never give up.

_*We're everywhere.*_

Go away. Let me be. Don't tell me such nasty things.

_*We're everywhere. We're in the blood.* _

No. I stand up. Sometimes they're mean, sometimes they tell me wonderful things. It all depends on the moon. They were mean the night my Angel went away. I can still remember going to Spike and weeping. I felt my Angel leave. I felt empty inside. I still do. And no matter what I do, I can't get him out of my body. I don't want to. If I did, what would I be? What would I have left.

_*Nothing. You are nothing. You'd have nothing.*_

                NO! I stand up and grab someone. My teeth sink into them and it tastes so delicious. So bitter. Like my lemons. And when I think of my lemons, I can think back to Satan. And when I do, I am whole. And I like being whole.

                The voices are new tonight. I knew they'd be coming. Every night I heard of them more and more. They threaten me. They want to take the lemons and I can't let them. The lemons are all I have left.

_                *Go to him Drusilla.*_

                I don't wanna listen, but it calls to me. I have to. I have to abide. I can't not. How can't I not?

                I sit in the car. He sits besides me, not knowing his fate, not knowing why I made him drive me here. I've been listening to the voices and they've been singing and I can't stop them. I can't not listen. I can't stop and I can't not listen and I can't sit here any longer. I can feel him inside. He's so close. My Satan, my everything is so close. And I wonder what he will say, or what he will do, and I wonder if things will ever be the same.

                But I can't move. So I sit and listen to the music, whether in my head or not, I like it.

//I'd be lying if I said I was completely unscathed,

Would I be proving you right with my silence or my retaliation?

Would I debilitate you here in my nonreaction, yeah?

And how would I explain?

And how would I explain this to my children if I had them?//

                My children. I clutch my abdomen. I never had children from my body. Mum said it was the lemons. She said no sweetness could come from my bitter body. But she was wrong. I did have something sweet. I did give life to something sweet and pure. And as much as he hated my Angel, he loved him as much. I know he did. My Spike. William. My poet. My childe. I know it hurt him when my Angel claimed him as his childe. As much as Satan loved me, he hated me. I was no childe. And I know that.

                Spike was my childe. Spike is my childe. But I can't forgive him. He hurt me far worse than the lemons.

  
//Because I can't not, because I can't not

Because I can't not afford to be misread one more time

Would it be whining if I said I needed a hug?

Would you feel slighted if I said your love's not enough?

And how can I complain?

And how can I complain when I'm the one who reaches for it?//

                And I didn't complain. I couldn't. How does one fight Satan? How do you wage war on the lemons? The Queen of Hearts couldn't. She tried. I can't not crave the pain. I can't not crave his fingers. My Spike tried to understand. But he couldn't. 

//Because I can't not, because I can't not

Because I can't not walk without my crutches

Because I can't not, because I can't not

Because I can't help wonder why you ask me

To all the unheard wisdom in the school yard//

                I often think and wonder what it would be like to be just me. I wonder what it would be like to be normal again. I know I'm not right. And most days, I don't feel it. Most days the voices only whisper. Most days the moon doesn't sing, and Miss. Edith keeps quiet. And some days they scream. But today, they don't say anything. They make me ill. They think they have the answers and perhaps they do.

  
//You think you're the right ones

You think you're the charmed ones I'm sure

But how can you go on with such conviction?

Who do you think you are why do you question me?//

                I never questioned him. I never stopped him from taking my childe from me. I never stopped him because I knew it useless. The voices screamed that day. I can still hear them. They told me I'd die if I dare say anything. So I didn't. And I've regretted it ever since.

  
//Because we can't not, Because we can't not

Because we can't help laugh at under estimations

Because we can't not, because we can't not

Because we can't not afford to be misled one more time//

                And I won't. The voices are quiet, and for once, I won't listen. I turn to the man and snap his neck. I step out of the car and walk inside.

//Because we can't not, because we can't not

Because we can't not help without your willingness//

                I open the door and step inside. It's beautiful inside. And I see him, my Angel! He can't say anything and all I can say is, "Why do you affect me? Why do you affect me still? Why do you hinder me? Why do you hinder me still? Why do you unnerve me? Why do you unnerve me still? Why do you trigger me? Why do you trigger me still?"

And he stares at me and says, "because I can't not."

And behind my Angel, always behind him, is my sweet wicked William. The sugar for my lemon.

CONTINUE ON


	3. Sympathetic Character

TITLE:  Sympathetic Character  1/1

COMPANION PIECE FOR: i am what i am & the Lemons

SUMMARY: DARLA reflects.

RATING: R (character death)

CATEGORY: Angst

SPOILERS: Fool For Love, Darla and general buffy season 2

DISCLAIMER:  Joss Whedon owns all. Alanis Morrisette owns "Sympathetic Character".

DEDICATION: For Rabbit. Thanks SOOO much! And to Tali for the encouragement.

FEEDBACK:  PLEASE! It means SOOOO much! PLEASE PLEASE!

THANKS TO: James, Juliet, David and Julie. AND TO: Ryan, Ash, Evil Willow, Michelle, Alee, and my two bitches.

FOOLS FOR LOVE

**-Sympathetic Character-**

                I can feel it inside me and it hurts. It's been hurting for a while, but it stings now. I can feel death, creeping its way into my body and it pains me. It burns me from within and I wonder, was this what he felt? I don't know if it's the soul or the humanity, but something is burning me from within. I've not felt this pounding in my chest in so long and it aches. This body is dying and I can feel it wasting away.

                He won't help me. My own bloodline won't help me. It's not that he can't. He can. I know he can. He won't. He promised he'd take care of me and he won't. So I'll find someone who will. I was not meant to be this way. I was not meant to be walking around downtown Los Angeles fearing the shadows and demons that I know are there. This was not supposed to be me.

                And perhaps that's why he won't. He came back from Hell a vampire, not human. I know this, I was informed of his soul loss and I wish I could have been there. We could have had what we once did. But we changed. The magnificent four are no longer here. And we were magnificent for nearly two decades; we were feared and revered. Demons cowered in their skin, and other vampire clans ran from encounters with us. We'd show up in a town, and the most powerful clans would leave. And that's how we liked it. No competition.

                I miss that. I miss my darling boy. He won't help me. Fine. I don't need him.

                Oh but I do! And I hate myself for it. I can feel him inside my body, inside my heart, my mind; I can feel him still, as if he were my childe, when he's not. Not anymore, because I have no childer. I have life, and it's a curse.

                Who am I? Damned if I know. I do know I'm not the human I once was. I remember that much. I might not know too much more, but I know that. I'm not her. She is not I. She was not I. And I won't be her. I don't remember her name. Funny that I don't remember her name. It was my name for twenty or so years, yet I don't remember. I try and try, but I can't remember. I can't picture her. I remember when he came to me. I remember when he sat outside my window; I can still hear him humming. The sound of the air in my delusions. And I *did* cry out for him. I *did* call him to my bed. I invited him in. I wanted the death that I knew he'd bring me. I welcomed it.

                Where was God when I was a child and my mother died? I know that. I know my life wasn't pretty. And where was God when a small child cried out in fear of her father's hand? God never did anything for me, or her. And he knew that. So when he brought death, I accepted. And he was my new father. He was everything I needed for a hundred or so years. He was all I could see, all I wanted. He was my companion, my savior, my brother, and just the thought of his hands on me makes me cringe. Is it any wonder why I left with Angelus?

                Living with the Master for one hundred and forty-four years was a nightmare. If I said too much, or not enough, I was dragged to bed. "I was afraid you'd hit me if I'd spoken up. I was afraid of your physical strength. I was afraid you'd hit me below the belt. I was afraid of your sucker punch. I was afraid of your reducing me. I was afraid of your alcohol breath. I was afraid of your complete disregard for me. I was afraid of your temper. I was afraid of handles being flown off of. I was afraid of holes being punched into walls. I was afraid of your testosterone."

//I have as much rage as you have

I have as much pain as you do

I've lived as much Hell as you have

And I've kept mine bubbling under for you//

                And through all that, it sickened me to know that he was my best friend. He was my lover. He was my mentor, my brother, my partner, and my teacher. He was my very own sympathetic character. He was my everything. And he knew it. He used it. And when Angel got his soul, and my darling boy was gone, and Spike and Dru were of no consequence, I went back and begged for forgiveness. The year following that was the worst. "I was afraid of verbal daggers. I was afraid of the calm before the storm. I was afraid for my own bones. I was afraid of your seduction. I was afraid of your coercion. I was afraid of your rejection. I was afraid of your intimidation. I was afraid of your punishment. I was afraid of your icy silences. I was afraid of your volume. I was afraid of your manipulation. I was afraid of your explosions."

                I paid for that in spades. He always insisted that he was my salvation. He told me over and over that God didn't want me, that's why he was in that room with me, that's why he was with me on my death bed, and not the priest. I learned that lesson well.

//I have as much rage as you do

I have as much pain as you do

I've lived as much hell as you have

And I've kept mine bubbling under for you//

                But I taught the lesson better. Angelus. My Darling Boy. How I miss his fingers, his caress, his length sheathed inside me. I miss so much about him that it makes me bleed. And he turned me away. He could have been my best friend, my lover, my mentor, my brother, my partner, and my teacher. *He* could my everything, my very own sympathetic character. But he turned me away.

                Because he "can't." He says I damned him. I set him free. The evil he brought was buried inside; I merely set it free. God I wished that I could have denounced my sire. But he was my everything. I couldn't denounce him. So I left. I left with my Darling Boy.

                And as I'm walking back to the office, I realize it's not finished. *Angelus* was my salvation. My true salvation from the Master. I storm into the office and he's standing in the doorway and I scream, "YOU WERE MY KEEPER. YOU WERE MY ANCHOR. YOU WERE MY FAMILY. YOU WERE MY SAVIOR. And therein lay the issue. And therein lay the problem."

                And I sink to the ground. I look up and see the other two who seek refuge with the man who wears his face. The face of our beloved. Of my Darling Boy.

CONTINUE ON


	4. How Do I Feel?

TITLE:  How Does It Feel?  1/1

SEQUEL PIECE TO COMPANION PIECES: i am what i am & the Lemons & Sympathetic Character

SUMMARY: ANGEL reflects and acts.

RATING: R (character death)

CATEGORY: Angst

SPOILERS: Fool For Love, Darla and general buffy season 2

DISCLAIMER:  Joss Whedon owns all. Nine Inch Nails owns "Suck".

DEDICATION: For Rabbit. Thanks SOOO much! And to Tali for the encouragement.

FEEDBACK:  PLEASE! It means SOOOO much! PLEASE PLEASE!

THANKS TO: James, Juliet, David and Julie. AND TO: Ryan, Ash, Evil Willow, Michelle, Alee, and my two bitches.

FOOLS FOR LOVE

**-How Does It Feel?-**

                Finally I got to tell her what she did to me. But she doesn't see. Her soul hasn't caught up with her because she's running so fast away from the pain. And she's right in saying that I didn't have anyone who understood. I still don't really. And perhaps my fascination with her, in spite of the fact that she was my sire, is that she has a chance I didn't. How come she comes back human and I didn't? Where's the justice? But perhaps it's not justice why I said no. I told her I couldn't. That isn't completely true. I won't. She has a chance that I didn't get. She doesn't see, because she can't see, what a gift that is. And it is such a gift.

                I used to believe in God, until she became the embodiment of all things I once held dear. She became my breath, my blood, my livelihood, my everything. She was my sire. She still is, even though she's not. She was gone. I killed her. I murder my sire and for what? So I could save a slayer? The slayer I loved at the time?! I never did make sense.

                Do I love Buffy? Yes. Most assuredly yes. But can I love her completely? No. For as twisted and wrong it may seem, there is only one blonde that owns the key to my heart, and that is she. The woman who ran out of my office because I refused to take her life. I am a demon. I'm not a man. I'm a vampire. I drink blood. I life off it. It doesn't matter what kind of blood I drink. Just because I don't grab the nearest breathing body, doesn't mean I am deserving. I'm still a vampire. At the end of the day, I wake up. When the sun comes up, I sleep. When I look in the mirror, I see an empty room. I am non-existent. I am a vampire. I may look a man, but I'm not one. I was kidding myself to think for a second that I was one, let alone to think that for three years.

                Do I love Buffy? Yes. My soul loves Buffy. But the man that soul belonged to, has been dead for 250 years. Perhaps had he and Buffy met, he would have stopped his wandering, whoring ways, but I doubt it. I've never been very worthy of much. So when Darla came along and offered me her time, and her blood, I latched on.

                We had a good century and a half. And then I was stupid. I made one mistake. And now I fight for redemption that I may never obtain. I fight for humanity, others' and my own, but who am I kidding? Why would the powers or God want me? So what if I become human, I'm still going to Hell. So what's the difference if I go there as a vampire or man? As Darla said, God doesn't want me.

//There is no god up in the sky tonight

No sign of heaven anywhere in sight//

                As I drank that gypsy down, and everything I knew was gone. All I was disappeared. All that was true is left behind. I remember how clear everything used to be. I fight so many battles these days. I fight humans who don't want to be helped, and humans that have no clue they need help. I fight humans that need too much help, and ones that don't want enough. I fight everyone else's demons. I fight their pasts, their futures, their hopes and fears. I fight their values, and their beliefs. I fight those among them that have evil, and the evil demons themselves. Why do I carry this burden?

Things used to be simple. There was the hunt, the feed, and the sex. Most activities fell into these categories: feeding and hunting, and sex. Anything outside these areas did not apply to us. I miss that clarity of waking up and knowing what will happen. I miss that reliability of the blood and sex. I miss that so much. Once I could see. Now I am blind.

                So many times did I try to recapture that clarity. In China, with her, I tried. I wanted to so badly. I wanted her to welcome me back, I wanted things to be the way they were. So we sold ourselves on the dream, but it couldn't happen. Things had changed. And then she came back. And things are once again different. And I'm finally starting to want it badly enough. I miss the blood. I wake up in the middle of the night and I want it so badly. I find myself with my fangs deep in my wrists, just to feel it again. Fangs and skin. I yearn for that. My body calls to it. I smell fresh blood and I want it. I crave it. I can taste it in my mouth.

  
//Don't want your dreams you try to sell

This disease I give to myself//

                She's right. This soul is a disease. It eats away at me from the inside. A little bit every day. I feel it inside. My body wants to reject it. It has to reject it. It has to expel it and it hurts. God it hurts, every day a little more. HOW DOES IT FEEL? HOW DOES IT FEEL?

                It feels like someone is trying to rip a portion of my heart off. Like someone has pliers and is trying to rip my retina off. As if I'm hanging off a cliff by my index finger with an anvil tied to my legs. It hurts. It burns, stings, and throbs. And she has the power to make it sweeter than the sun. I get too tight I come undone.

                I felt him before he ever opened the door. I could always feel him. My half-childe. The childe of my childe. I wonder if he could ever get beyond the hatred and rage for what I did. I saved him. I claimed him. But he can't see that. 

"If you're looking for a fight…" I start, but I can't justify reprimanding him. Would it matter? Would it do anything but complicate and already complicated day? So I just sit. And he joins me.

                "How?" He asks, as if I have some cosmic answer.

"A spell of some kind or another."

                "And human."

                "Human with a soul. She wanted me to…"

                "Sire her?" How could be angry with me when he can finish my sentences? How can he *not* be grateful for what I did. I saved him from the Master. He surely would have been killed if word got around that he was the childe of the crazy.

                "Yeah, but I can't. But she asked and I said no, and she left. She's in danger. She's hurting. She needs help."

                "But you can't give it to her." He says and I bow my head to confess. "I envy her." He states and I understand. I nod.

                She has a second chance. She gets to choose. We never got that choice and it's not fair. 

                Spike follows me into the office. I can't turn him away. He needs me. I created that need and I'm tired of being something I'm not. I'm a vampire. I'm a sire. I have responsibilities. So the decision is made. He is not welcome in Sunnydale anymore, but he is welcome in my life, in my home. And no words are spoken, they aren't needed.

                Spike is wandering around when the door opens and I look up. It's Drusilla. She looks at me and angrily says, "Why do you affect me? Why do you affect me still? Why do you hinder me? Why do you hinder me still? Why do you unnerve me? Why do you unnerve me still? Why do you trigger me? Why do you trigger me still?"

And I stare at her and say the only thing I can. "Because I can't not." And it's the truth. The temple walls are made of flesh. Runs up my arms 'til I'm on track. Itches my skin right off of my back. And I know she sees Spike, and is surprisingly overjoyed. She runs to him, and I see the look of elation and shock on his face. And no words need be spoken. I have my two childer back. They are where they should be.

                I watch Spike and Dru reacquaint themselves, him apologizing for betraying her, and her for not being a good "mommy." And just then the door flings open and a screaming former-vampire comes in. "YOU WERE MY KEEPER. YOU WERE MY ANCHOR. YOU WERE MY FAMILY. YOU WERE MY SAVIOR. And therein lay the issue. And therein lay the problem."

                She falls to the ground and I catch her. She cries and begs. She pleads with me and I'm so sick of the lies. I'm so tired of running, and fighting battles I can't win.

_"Aren't you tired of battles you know you're gonna win?"_

                My William was always so smart. Ahead of his time he was. And I do miss that feeling.

_"Back against the wall, nothing but fists and fangs."_

                So yes Darla. I'll heal your wounds. I'll set you free. I'm Jesus Christ on Ecstasy. And I sink my fangs into her neck and it shocks her. HOW DOES IT FEEL? HOW DOES IT FEEL?

And the blood slides down my throat, and for the first time in a century, I feel completely and utterly happy. I'm finally able to accept who I am. And my soul is so dirty, tainted with the burdens of humanity. It eats away at my insides and I feel so dirty.

  
_//I am so dirty on the inside I am so dirty on the inside I am so dirty on the inside I am so dirty on the inside//_

HOW DOES IT FEEL? HOW DOES IT FEEL? Suck. Suck. Suck. Suck. And I do. I drink her down and the pain surges through my body and I am free.

I rip off my shirt and cut my chest. I guide her mouth to me and she latches onto my skin. And she drinks.

I let her go when she's dead. I turn to the other two in the room. "Daddy?" Drusilla asks hesitantly.

"Yeah Baby, I'm back." I say. And I see the look on Spike's face, pain etched into his beautiful face. "And *this* time there are no slayers, no souls, no gypsies, no child's play. As soon as Darla wakes up, we're leaving."

"Where to Mate?" Spike asks, almost happy.

I walk over to him and attack his mouth savagely. God it's been so long! And he kisses me back. "Because this time, I'm gonna take care of my childer. And you won't have to go another day with that chip in your head if I have anything to say about it William."

Both are relieved. I am free, finally. I pick the body of my former-sire, newest-childe, and walk upstairs, my other two childer at my heels. We walk up the stairs, and I open the door to the bedroom. They enter before me, and I whisper as I shut the door, "_A thousand lips, a thousand tongues. A thousand throats, a thousand lungs. A thousand ways to make it true. I wanna do terrible things to you._"

THE END


End file.
